Masquerade
by Tristana
Summary: ANIMAMUNDI: DARK ALCHEMIST. Count Sandwich might not have always been the man we all know him as - what if he had been wearing a mask? Kinda dirty, and kinky... it's Sammich after all. Promise, there's no angst here! Rated M to be safe.
1. He wears a mask for all

**Title: **Masquerade

**Author: **Tristana

**Fandom: **Animamundi: Dark Alchemist

**Pairing:** Ah ah! SammichX? (You'll see if you read...)

**Warning: **This is kinda sick, though not soooooo graphic – wrote worse stuff. But if you are a tad bit imaginative, I guess it can get pretty dirty.

**Note: **I know I'm sick, thank you for noticing. Wrote it after telling Master I should go to sleep. I just had to write it. Really. I didn't plan for it to be so long, in fact.

Also, the lyrics at the end are from the awesome song by L'Âme Immortelle, "Masquerade". Feel free to listen to it when reading - or not - but I wrote that OS when listening to it so...^^

Link: http : // www. youtube. com /watch ?v= zEAwSktQKDI (the vid's quality is not good but this is the only version of it not being an AMV I found. Sorry about that.)

* * *

Masked men advance – to their own fate, lambs toward slaughter. Animals writhing at my becks and calls – you are not different.

Once, I was afraid of who I was – of the roles I played – a child unlike any other – cruel and fair. I thought I was abnormal – they wanted me to believe it. But I never quite cared.

Carving this mask in their blood – now imprinted on my face. Can't let it go, beautiful persona. I am not lost anymore – I am nobility, I am evil in human flesh. Darkness that scared them – I took it as mine. And I am not afraid anymore.

Wondering – where will it lead me? Why should I care? I am the master of puppet – they dance on their strings. Masks of pain, lust, fear and hatred, all drawn in blood and screams. Fast paced blood rushing in my veins – I am not cold as you are. You never feared me and you ripped the mask off. I wear it because you want me too but you know me. You are the one who once let me have a glimpse of immortality. You will not die – and I shall never let my body abandon me. Let me go to Hell if it makes them feel better but I will never disappear.

Cold and ruthless – moonlit beauty – antagonistic being. You are dead and yet living – I am living but dead inside. So alike – you don't know me and I don't know you. Why did it come to this? You were standing before them all – and they cowered, scared little child. Outwardly, they ran away. You don't manipulate them, you just kill them. But it is so sweet to hear them writhe and die, and scream in passion and agony.

Puppetmaster, my mask melted – molding my face. I am not the weak and dark child I was. They will all bow before me, contemptuous, yet groveling at my feet, useless worms. Oh, how much I love to feel their bones crack and their blood flow – music to my ears, sweeter than Moussorgsky's play.

Your body against mine, nails digging my skin – you are the only one to ever hurt me like this. No one would dare to – you do. And I would forever hate you for this, King of the Dead. I do not love, I just feel hatred – richer than blood, heartbeat shattering my chest. You break my bones and skin – do it again. I don't care. My face is covered in grime and slimy black essence – blinding me. Your cold breath on my face, underlying rotten smoothness, like life itself going to waste inside of you. And you laugh at my demise, just like I laugh at theirs. You break me like I broke my boys – even worse, for I would always welcome you.

You feel so cold – I feel so naked. Nothing stands between you and me – you see right through the glassy surface. Violent and merciless – oh yes, defile this soiled body, make me one of yours, even for an instant. Death is breathing in my neck, nails digging in my back – like ribs on the coroner's table, I am split in to. Flower of decay, this is what I am – beautiful and deadly. They would always come back to me – the mask will be put on once again.

Deep down I know that I still am the child I once have been – but this mask does not exist anymore. Once put on the child's face, it turned him into what he is now – and it shall never end.

_When I wear you, day by day  
I'm a king, comes what may!_

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Yes, this EXACTLY what you think it is. And I know I'm sick. One day, I'll write something more graphic... But really... Sammich and the Pope in the same room = me dying from bloodloss.


	2. but for him

**Note:** I said it was complete... but I actually chose to wrote a second part... I actually was interested in Pope Gamigin's possible views on the whole story.

**Disclaimer:** This bunch of manly smexiness is not mine. I just use them. And everything I write, I write it for Master.^^

* * *

The angry cry of a soul blacker than night. A mask – that's what you wore – standing before me. Nude but for your defiant expression. Defying me, the King of Necromancers- such a sick joke.

I know why you came to me, fallen from grace – so pale. Long for it – need I say more? Why would I tell you – how to gain eternal life? You would never gain it – you would just lose what makes a human out of you.

Still, you are willing. My frozen fingers dance on your skin. So young – so afraid of age's crippling decay. Rot is what stands in your way.

I know that you will not just wither silently and die – for that is not your will. And for once, I admit it: you are one to get what he wants. It would work only once – choose well, child.

Choice was made long ago – such were your words when you came back. Here you are now.

Slender, white body arching – soft moans echoing from your throat. Painful raspy breathes – music to my ears. So shameless – must you be so young as to accept me to defile your body so? I know – your body would not bend under the touch of anyone.

Hands grip the sheets – tearing sounds – deep crimson smears unseen on black. Such is your life's thread – cling to it – scream for more. The pain – the pleasure – you yearn for what I give to you. So innocent and so tainted – pretty little boy became my pretty little whore. Sell your body for a fleeting dream.

From haughty and unafraid amongst Death's minions when you walked in ages ago... look at you now. Head thrown backward with every push and shove – on your body, the dainty spider web of your life blooming under my nails. Glass cut and shaped – bleeding onto the ground.

And even so – through long years of hidden decay, you are so lovely, my child. Drenched in blood and lashed by leather – your eyes never stray from mine – still defying me even as your bittersweet lips take me in.

An animal – thus you called me. What would that make you? We are animals – letting go of human shame and decency – useless rags. If I could – I might love you. This mask you wear breaks under my lips – like a spell carefully cast. Your dark eyes ask me why – though you do not seem to realize... So many reasons – why would I tell you? I am a necromancer – your ageless bones – youthful skin – rotten mind – have no secrets for me. Just like you on one level – and so different.

I know that despite your shouts and angry glares you enjoy my touch – for you do the same to this boy. He is so young – you used to have the same fresh demeanour – the same frightened stance. Never quite so – for you were dead before coming to life. All of them died because of that mask of yours... For they saw what was underneath – for they could not see the real you. I know what to do – I know you want me to.

Shackling your body in chains and leather would be too rude – too enjoyable. You would have a reason to hate me. My cute little boy, I just wanted to break you – my so precious toy.

* * *

Here ends the Masquerade... or not...


End file.
